Turnin' Up the Volume
by Scholar of Imagination
Summary: A very quiet patient arrives at St. Jude's. In fact, she won't talk at all. Campbell tries to help Bethy come out of her shell.
1. A New Patient

**So, thanks to Tumblr, I recently discovered BBC Scotland's ****_Takin' Over the Asylum_****, a 6-episode show that aired in the mid-90's, with a 23-year-old David Tennant as the character Campbell Bain. HE'S ADORABLE AND HIS HAIR IS SO FLUFFY! So of course, I have to write a story for it.**

**You can watch it on youtube if you want; I don't think it's anywhere else. And this will make a lot more sense if you've actually watched the show; I'm too lazy to try and explain it.**

**Oh, yeah. It's a Scottish show, so they all have accents. This is the first time I've tried writing in a dialect/accent/whatever so please be kind!**

* * *

Eddie and Campbell were in the radio studio of St. Jude's, pulling records before the show. Eddie glanced over to see if Campbell had found what he was looking for, when he caught sight of a young girl sitting alone in the hallway. Arms around her legs, she looked very small and sad.

"Campbell," Eddie asked, "who's that?"

"Where?" Eddie pointed. "Oh, that's Bethy. Just brought 'er in a few weeks ago."

"What's wrong with her?"

"They don' really know; she won' say a word. Won' write either, though they know she can read. A policeman picked her up out of the park and brought 'er here when she wouldn' talk. Must have gone through some sorta trauma, though; she doesn' like to be touched or bein' in large crowds. Prob'ly why you haven' seen 'er before."

The two men worked side-by-side in silence for a little while before Eddie asked, "If she won' talk, how do they know her name?"

"They found the letters 'B-E-K' written on her arm in pen when she came in; figure those 'er her initials an' the 'E' is fer 'Elizabeth,' so that's what they call 'er. It can be shorten'd to Bethy to fit the 'B,' ya'see. They don' know how ol' she is either, but they don' think more than 15 or 16." And with that, Campbell began the countdown until they went on-air, and Eddie saw the girl slip away as he flipped the switch.

* * *

The next day was Eddie's day off, so Campbell went down to the studio alone. Rosalie was there, cleaning as usual.

"Bethy was hanging around today."

"Again? Did she do anything?"

"No, but she left pretty quickly. If you ask me, though, it almost looked as if she was plannin' on comin' back."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Bethy returned, this time with a blanket and a book. She wrapped the blanket around herself and sat cross-legged on a chair, making a sort of cave for herself.

It wasn't long before Francine arrived. The woman approched Bethy tenatively,causing the girl to stiffen and look as if she wanted to disappear. Francine, obviously, thought better of attempting interaction, and entered the studio to be greeted by Rosalie and Campbell.

"Could'ja tell what she was readin'?" Rosalie asked.

"No, she wouldn' let me get close enough."

"Why do'ya wanna' know what she's readin' anyways?" Campbell asked.

"If we figure out what she likes, maybe we can help her," Rosalie supplied.

"Suit yourself..."


	2. Shakespeare

**For tennanttardis, who wanted an update!**

* * *

Campbell didn't leave the studio until long after the other two. Despite his apparent lack of concern for Bethy, he really did want to help her, but he wanted to do it his own way.

After locking up and pocketing the key to return to the nurse, he went over to sit next to Bethy, who was sitting in the same chair. Campbell was amazed that she was still there; he knew he could never stay in one place for so long, but he supposed that was the manic in him. She was almost done with her book, though, whatever it was.

Bethy didn't notice when Campbell sat down a few chairs away from her, and she jumped when he nervously cleared his throat. He flashed her a smile as she looked at him warily. She must have decided he wasn't a threat, though, as she soon went back to her book.

Campbell tapped his feet, chaffing at the inaction but not wanting to frighten her away. He finally could stand it no longer.

"So," she started again, slightly, but Campbell pressed on, "what're ya readin'?" She glanced at him again before marking her page and holding it out to him. He took it, careful not to touch her hand. "Shakespeare's _The Merchant of Venice_," he read off the cover. "This one yer favorite?" She nodded. "Me, I like _Hamlet_; ya know: 'To be or not to be' and all that stuff? They usually don't let Shakespeare in here though; think it's too depressing or somethin'. This one's a tragedy too, innit? How did you..?" But Campbell had over-stayed his welcome, and Bethy snatched her book back before hurrying away.

* * *

Early the next afternoon, Campbell was alone in his room, strumming idly on his guitar. A new plan to raise funds for the studio was simmering in his mnd, and the ideas seemed to ebb and flow along with the chords.

In the after-lunch lull of St. Jude's, Campbell was able to dimly perceive the soft sound of socks padding down the linoleum hall. He heard it approaching him, and glanced up from his instrument just as Bethy appeared in the doorway, a book clutched to her chest. She looked apprehensive, nervous, as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to be there.

"Did'ja like it?" Campbell asked, flashing her his winning smile in an attempt to put her at ease. "I'm thinkin' of writin' a song for the station. Maybe sell it to a record company to raise some money, ya know?'

Bethy just blinked solemnly. Campbell continued doing what he was good at: talking.  
"I've got this idea; it's sort of crazy, but maybe something about words an' music an' how they give people a voice...well, it makes sense to me, anyway."

Campbell couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw one corner of Bethy's mouth twitch as, at these words, she slipped a black pen out from behind her ear, plopped down on the floor, and began ruffling through the pages of her book, clearly looking for something.

Campbell watched in rapt wonder as she finally circled a passage heavily, closed the book, and stuck the pen back behind her ear. His curious eyes followed her as she placed the, still unknown, book facedown on his bedside table before bolting, again, like a scared rabbit.

The young man waiting until he could no longer detect her feet scuffling down the corridor before lunging for the book. Hastily turning it over, he saw the title.

_Hamlet_.

It was his turn to shuffle though the pages of the play, which looked as if it hadn't been read since it was first written. He located the passage at last, the annotation dark but surprisingly neat:

"Words, words, words..."


	3. You've Got A Friend

**A birthday update for my new friend, Jasmine; happy birthday, friend! Also, you people should go check out the story we're writing together (It's called ****_Star Trek: The End of Vulcan_****)! **

**Also thanks to Erided K, dannikaz, and tennanttardis for their various forms of support, plus also my other reviewers! And yes, dannikaz, I deliberatly alluded to DT's role in _Hamlet_; good job spotting it!  
**

**Thanks to everyone for his/her patience; despite its appearance, this story is NOT inactive!**

**Finally, as a PSA, there are actually 2 more ****_Asylum _****stories here on , but you have to put Takin' Over... into the searchbar at the top of the page; I believe they are filed under misc. TV/movies or something like that. **

**Now, without further adieu, chapter 3!**

* * *

A few days later, Campbell convinced Eddie to let him take the show on his own. The older man had been hesitant at first, but when Campbell hinted heavily that there was a new movie out that Francine wanted to see, he had relented.

There were three minutes of the show left and Campbell was getting ready to go off-air.

He spun the record on the turntable and, as the Beatles' "Eight Days a Week" started to filter through the speakers, he noticed Bethy outside the studio. He slipped his headphones down around his neck and waved her in.

"Hey! You've missed most of the show, but - " He was interrupted by Bethy urgently tugging on his sleeve. "What do you want?" She only looked at him pleadingly and tried to pull him out of his seat and towards the door.

She clearly wanted him to go somewhere with her. "I can't just go; I've got to finish the show!"

Luckily, the song chose that moment to trickle to an end, and Campbell was able to tear himself away from Bethy's grip with a, "Hold on, just give me thirty seconds and I'll go with you!"

He wrapped up quickly, hopping Eddie wasn't listening to notice that he cut a few precious seconds off at the end of his jingle; Bethy looked as if she was about to burst into tears at any moment. "OK; let's go."

Bethy turned on her heels and dashed out of the studio, Campbell close behind her. She led him through the maze of corridors, eventually coming to a halt at a corner in one of the less-occupied areas of the building. She pressed her back against the wall, and Campbell did the same.

He peeked around the corner, ready to get to the bottom of this mystery.

There was a small open door, leading to a dusty closet. Nothing strange about that; there were tons of mystery doors at St. Jude's. There were also a couple of men carrying large, worn boxes through the door. When they did, Campbell felt an urgent tug on the sleeve of his jacket. He turned to ask Bethy what the heck they were doing there, but was interrupted by a large crash, the sound of many hard objects hitting the ground, and a variety of swear words. Looking to see the cause of the noise, he finally understood what was causing Bethy's distress.

Scattered all over the ground were dozens of books.

Before he could stop her, Bethy had dashed around the corner and snatched a single book off the floor. As she dashed away, the men stared at her in confusion, before realizing what was happening, at which point they began to shout at her. Campbell wanted to help her get away (It was just a book!), but he could only stand there incredulously, even when the men began to chase after her.

Suddenly, Bethy slipped. Her socked feet went out from under her, sending her sprawling across the floor. This gave the men just enough time to grab the book, which had remained clenched in her hand, away from her and get a tight grip on her arms. Bethy fought back, trying to wrench herself away from her captors. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Campbell's heart broke at the distressed noises she was making.

But then Bethy was gone; hustled away to some sterile, scary room where Campbell knew she would be drugged into submission. What had he done?

Or, more importantly, what hadn't he done?


	4. Mission Impossible?

Two days later, Campbell decided to try and visit Bethy; the drugs should have worn off by then, and perhaps she was beginning to miss seeing everyone.

He snuck past the nurses' station, still not completely sure that he was allowed to do this.

Knocking softly, in case she was asleep, Campbell quietly entered the room. He stopped short, however, when he saw Bethy's therapist in a chair next to Bethy herself, who was curled up in a ball on her bed, facing the wall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I thought Bethy might just like some company..." Campbell spluttered, trying to keep the both of them out of even more trouble.

"It's all right, Campbell; I was just leaving." The tired-looking woman got to her feet, gathering folders and notebooks, and sighed heavily. She seemed frustrated.

"Is everything okay?" Campbell asked. He began to worry that something was really wrong with Bethy. Had she gotten hurt? Was she refusing to even move now?

"It's fine," the therapist sighed, again, "it's just that nothing seems to be getting through to her. If she doesn't start making any progress soon, then she'll have to be sent who knows where..."

The woman trailed off as she noticed that Bethy had rolled over onto her other side and was now staring intently at Campbell. "On second thought..." Campbell raised an eyebrow in confusion, and the woman continued, "Campbell, would you consider yourself Bethy's friend?"

"Well, I guess so. I mean, I talk to her and I think she likes having me around and everything..."

"Well you, Campbell Bain, seem to be the only person who has any sort of ability to communicate with her. I mean, look: I've been here for almost an hour and she's barely stirred. Until you came in."

"Yeah? So?"

The therapist sighed once again. "Campbell, I'm giving you a mission: get through to her; you seem to have made a pretty good start. Maybe get her interested in an activity or something. Take it slowly, but try to break down the wall she's built up around herself. Otherwise..."

And with that, she left. Campbell listened as the therapist's shoes clipped professionally down the hallway, wondering how crazy someone would have to be to put a loony like him in charge of something as important as this. He had to do something, though, because the therapist was right: if Bethy didn't start getting better soon, They would probably start pumping her veins full of strange medical cocktails and lock her away in a real hospital someplace.

Campbell looked back at Bethy. Her blue eyes were still locked onto him, and that look, so full of trust, made him promise himself that he would not let her down again.

* * *

**Not my best or favorite chapter, but it moves the story along and is decent for about 1 o'clock in the morning. And I must say that my handwriting is worse than usual at that time of day.**


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